Freakishly Short
by dreamofhome
Summary: Sometimes you just want an evening without thinking. A bunch of little peeks into the lives of John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.
1. Chapter 1

AN: There is a reason why the title is 'Freakishly Short' because I've seen a lot of stories, which were told in 100 words or less and that is exactly what is happening here.

Pairings: Sherlock/John

Warnings: OOC-ish, AU-ish

* * *

><p>Had it Coming<p>

Bored. Bored. Boooooored.

He heard the front door being opened from downstairs. Time to put some bullets in the wall. That will show John not to take his time shopping.

* * *

><p>Over Spilled Tea<p>

John dropped his white mug cracking it and spilling the tea.

Now John was angry he went up to his room, pulled out his gun from the bedside drawer, stomped back down and shot at the wall. Only all his shots hit the holes that had already been made courtesy of Sherlock.

"Very nice John!" Sherlock exclaimed, "Feel better?"

"No." He said handing over the gun and slipping into his own chair. He looked back up at the wall and grinned.

"Maybe a bit."

* * *

><p>Blogs<p>

Sherlock swept into the room with his coat flapping and his scarf dancing and his hair staying perfectly in place.

"What are you writing this time?" Without hesitation Sherlock scooped up John's laptop where John's blog was opened. "Wolves or Vampires?" He read aloud, "Is this a new name for a case?"

"Uh yes what else would it be?" John replied too quickly from where he was sitting. All of a sudden there was a presence behind his chair and soft fingers tilting his head back.

"Vampires, obviously." whispered Sherlock.

* * *

><p>Kitty, Kitty, Kitty<p>

"Are you crying?" John asked open mouthed.

"When the golden retriever falls down the hole, it gets me every time."

"You mean you've seen this movie more than once?"

"Shh." Sherlock hissed like a cat. John waited before asking another question.

"But you didn't get upset when the cat fell down the waterfall."

"Cats have nine lives." He snapped.

"Sherlock-"

"Too easy." John read Sherlock's amused expression and calmed down. Shadow, the loyal golden retriever, and Sassy the cat, they now had perfect code names for their next case.

* * *

><p>Office Elf<p>

"If Sherlock ever comes down here," Sally glanced around the mailing room. "Don't talk to him."

"Why?" John queried becoming intrigued.

"Because he'll find all your dark secrets, things you didn't even know about yourself, and tell them to the world." John just laughed.

"You're joking."

"I wish I were." She hurriedly left him to his boring new job. Everyone was eerily quiet. He sleepily closed his eyes before a hand roughly shook his shoulder.

"Don't worry mate, just wait till Sherlock gets here." A thin man whispered.

"Why's that?"

"This place becomes something else entirely."

* * *

><p>Inside the Skull<p>

When Sherlock first woke up on the sofa he expected to see John hovering over him not Lestrade.

"What do you remember?" Lestrade questioned urgently.

"Where's John?" he groaned disregarding the question.

"Who's John?" Sherlock heaved an aggravated sigh,

"Only my flat-mate." He drawled. Lestrade appeared decidedly uncomfortable.

"Sherlock, you live alone."

* * *

><p>Second AN: Thank you for reading! Some important allusions that were made: Twilight- the bookmovie, Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey- the movie, Elf- the movie and possibly A Beautiful Mind- the movie.


	2. Chapter 2

Job

At the door to 221B Baker Street John made the error of inquiring after his newfound roommate's job.

"I'm the world's first divorce counselor." He answered with pride while the door opened to reveal an older woman in a purple dress.

"He's really quite good, took right care of my husband."

"Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock beamed, hugging her.

"Should I be worried?" John muttered.

"No no I couldn't stand him." She explained stepping out of Sherlock's arms and ushering them inside. When Sherlock showed up at his first date with Sarah, he knew he should have reconsidered living with him.

* * *

><p>Voice of an Angel<p>

"Please return to your spot." The boy stood firmly where he stood. "I'm not going to ask again." The woman scolded in a commanding tone. Silently the boy moved back to his designated group, and he did not open his mouth, not even when everyone began singing once more. Jim Moriarty was a soprano, he could hit any note, and that really annoyed Sherlock. He crossed his arms and glared sullenly at the bass members beside him.

* * *

><p>Our Minds<p>

"Sherlock!"

"Ah John, you've just proven my point." Sherlock stated in a mater of fact voice while currently lying tied up on the railway tracks.

"I've found you on top of a building ledge, at the bottom of a swimming pool, locked in a warehouse, and now this!"

"I know." Sherlock laughed.

"I can't keep up with you." John untied him and sat down.

"You can and you will," Sherlock hummed. "You see John, I have discovered that our minds are linked, you always know when I am in trouble."

"Sherlock, it's because I worry about you- constantly."

* * *

><p>Look at the Ring<p>

John could pass as a short human; no one ever noticed his ears, which had a bit of a point at the ends, except Sherlock, who noticed everything. He also knew that beneath his shoes and socks that he had hairy feet- a trait all hobbits shared. So how did a peace loving and friendly hobbit wind up living with a not so ordinary man called Sherlock Holmes? It all started with a woman in pink and the ring of power she possessed.

* * *

><p>Cute<p>

"What is that?" Sherlock demanded as soon as he set foot in the flat.

"What?" John asked jumping to his feet from his chair.

"That." Sherlock pointed. John chuckled merrily,

"It's a cat . . . what did you think it was?"

"An experiment gone astronomically wrong." Sherlock said, eyeing the hairless cat. "It belongs to you?" he queried with an arched eyebrow.

"Yes."

"Fine." He turned away from the bizarre creature; honestly John had no taste in anything.

* * *

><p>A Change<p>

"Don't laugh, don't stare, don't even breathe." John gaped dumbly, barely hearing what was being said.

"You're beautiful." John sighed. That was the last thing Sherlock wanted to hear at the moment.

"Get out!" He shrieked in a high-pitched voice.

"I didn't mean-"

"Just because I am now a woman does not mean that it should affect our relationship in any way."

"Whether you are a man or woman, it's okay, really, I just wanted to make sure you know that." Sherlock nodded once.

"No girl names." He sniffed, gliding up the staircase like a princess.

"Of course."

* * *

><p>AN: Thanks for reading! The only allusion here was for Lord of the Rings. Has anyone seen the amount of femJohn fics? It's absurd, that's why I had to throw the last story in, though honestly I don't much care for gender switching stories.<p>

Also if the lines don't appear, I am so sorry, I got into a row with them.


	3. Chapter 3

Too Many Clouds

"It's him, it's Sherlock!"

"No way."

"The dark wizard who appears right out of thin air-"

"And don't forget he's incredibly handsome!"

"I can't see anything."

"That's because of the fog."

"They say he eats peoples' hearts."

"Stop saying such scary things."

"Oh he can eat _my_ heart any day." The group of women all cackled and herded out of the coffee shop like the flock of sheep that could just be seen in the distance.

"It makes no difference to me," John mumbled to himself as he gazed out the window, "I don't have a heart."

* * *

><p>Colors<p>

John was sitting in his chair looking intently into the fire as if having a staring contest with it, when he heard a thud and a thump from upstairs followed by running footsteps.

"John what have you done!" John blinked. It seemed that a very nearly naked Sherlock had just come racing toward him and was now standing not an inch in front of him with his head bowed like a servant. Then he saw what had so upset Sherlock. His hair had become hot pink, no magenta, changing like the flames in the fireplace.

"I'm ruined," moaned Sherlock.

* * *

><p>We're Off<p>

"John, I need you to procure me some flying monkeys." Sherlock proclaimed.

"Why don't you ask Mycroft?" asked John, "He's Oz."

"I was going to go to Moriarty, since he owns the little beasts, but I'd much rather have you do it."

"Is there anything else?"

"If you see Mycroft could you remind him that I will not be going home anytime soon?"

"What about your heart, my courage, and Anderson's brain?"

"Those can wait."

"Poor Donovan, she'll be furious."

"Not to worry John, we can always get her a new pair of shoes, red, I should think."

* * *

><p>No, Thank You<p>

They all regarded John with condemnation. He was late for a date of which he had no prior knowledge. It was all so strange but there was Mycroft with his umbrella and the woman of no name, and Sherlock, mad as ever, and was that his big sister? Passed out drunk at the end of the table, goodness!

"I will not have tea." He rejected the offer or rather order that he have tea. He _must _have a cup of tea. He loved tea; he would die, maim, or kill for tea, but not at this time.

* * *

><p>Ethereal<p>

Doctor Watson woke up feeling good. Better than good in fact. He had slept peacefully with a noticeable lack of nightmares. His body felt light, strong, energized and unproblematic. He stretched his leg without a twitch. He eased out of bed, got dressed, and floated down the stairs. It was a fantastic morning, even without any caffeine, absolutely extraordinary. He breezed about the living room browsing for something to read. Sherlock entered the room robed and rubbing his eyes. He looked at John in astonishment. John serenely smiled in return.

"Oh my-"

"Yes, I've been granted wings."

* * *

><p>Tests<p>

At the lab John wondered why Sherlock and Molly never tried dating.

"She isn't my type." Sherlock said quietly as if reading his mind.

"Why don't you give her a chance?" John pressed, "She's nice and she obviously likes you-"

"I might as well date you then."

"Would you?" John joked.

"You're gay?" They had not noticed Molly's proximity.

"Does that bother you?" Sherlock lashed. Molly shook her head fleeing from sight.

"Why do you keep pushing people away?" John shouted exasperatedly.

"Only the intolerant ones," John's eyebrows lifted. "I can't be the only intelligent person in the world."

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you for reading! The allusions made were to Howl's Moving Castle the film, The Wizard of Oz the film or book, and Alice in Wonderland the film(s) :)<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Halloween

John spent several hours decorating both the inside and outside of the building for the festive occasion. Of course, John made sure that there were no real human body parts lying around. By nightfall everything was in order. When the bell rang Sherlock sluggishly went to answer and slowly pulled open the door.

"Trick or treat!" a gaggle of children chanted.

"Trick." He slammed the door in their masked faces.

"Sherlock!" John yelled.

"Fine," He reopened the door and called after them, "Come back, there's loads of teeth rotting candy, enough to give you all excruciating bellyaches!"

* * *

><p>Haunted House<p>

"No one goes there." Anderson murmured, shifting from one foot to the other, shivering in the October air.

"Why not?" John asked he was not so easily put off from danger.

"Because that's where the Holmes' live."

"So?"

"So? So! We're talking about _the_ Holmes'!" Lestrade flung his hands out extravagantly.

"Oh my God he doesn't know." Sally breathed, wide-eyed, "Whoever goes there," She jabbed a finger toward the house on the hill, "Doesn't come back." The others nodded in agreement. John squared his shoulders and paced away from them.

* * *

><p>Family Time<p>

"Sherlock?" John's voice filled the silence that had engulfed the room. It was Halloween night, and Sherlock was sitting on the edge of the sofa just waiting for Lestrade to call about thoughtless teenagers, gang violence, poisonings, anything! "Did you ever celebrate Halloween?" He interrupted Sherlock's silent appeals. His eyes flashed toward John,

"In a way," He supplied leaning back into the sofa, "Mycroft told the best ghost stories."

* * *

><p>Trick-or-Treating<p>

Sherlock hated Halloween with a passion. All the noise, the laughter intermixed with screaming. The only reason he went out that night was because his older brother forced him to go. Sherlock told himself, that next year, he would be eight, and he would no longer be under Mycroft's influence. That was until he ran into a bumblebee. Together they traversed London. Their cheeks were pinched, their baskets were filled, and Sherlock found that he could laugh just as loudly as anyone else. Of course Mycroft still made off with his basket afterwards, but that was to be expected.

* * *

><p>Competition<p>

"What's all this about?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"It's all right," John murmured in the darkness, "We just made some jack-o-lanterns and Sherlock wants to show his off." Mrs. Hudson gasped when she saw what the two carried. For a moment Mrs. Hudson wondered if they were real heads that had been painted orange. The carved pumpkins looked like they were in the middle of their death throes. She turned on the lights.

"The are both equally good." She rationalized.

"That settles it." Sherlock handed her his pumpkin and sped out the door.

"What am I to do with this?"

* * *

><p>Impress the Ladies<p>

There was a Halloween party at the police station. Sherlock wouldn't miss it for the world. The common theme appeared to be, be as slutty as possible without warranting an arrest. Sherlock decided to go as a security officer, maybe at an art museum or something, to charm the young women with a sense of safety and arty intellect, and John went as a nerdy professor in glasses. Apparently glasses were "in".


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Oh no I'm breaking my own rules on this one. I'll go back to my previous arrangement of more random snippets later. That said, I hope you like Narnia.

* * *

><p>Into the Street<p>

Doctor John Watson had just finished his therapy session with his therapist and he felt that he was still getting nowhere. Write a blog, she had said, write all that happens to you, and she was serious. Even though everyday was unbelievably boring. He shook his head laughing to himself, at the poor woman stuck with helping him, at himself, at the slow moving world-Whoomph. He did not know that the car had been coming until it hit him. The last thing he knew was that the light from the lamppost was rather beautiful.

* * *

><p>To be Lost and Cold<p>

He felt a dampness on his cheek, oh no, he had been crying again, it was freezing. He rolled over feeling even colder and a light shone down into his eyes. He blinked and sat up, blinking some more, his hands met with snow, there was so much snow and so many pine trees, his surroundings did not look a thing like London. Except for the lamppost, that was mildly comforting. He was just beginning to panic when the low strain of a violin met his ears.

* * *

><p>Welcome to the Hovel<p>

John stood and shakily began walking through the snow following an amazing enchanting melody. Surely whoever was creating that sound could help him. He found a strange little door that belonged to a building that appeared to be about to fall down. He knocked and the door swung open almost immediately. A tall man in a long black coat and a red scarf stood in the doorway, he also had a violin tucked under his chin; he smiled and resumed playing the instrument.

* * *

><p>Just like a Christmas Present<p>

The tall man led John into his home, there was not far to go, for the building was very small. Yet a fire was blazing and there were nice chairs sitting before it, John was a very happy man. The stranger sat, never missing a beat on his violin, they had not even spoken or exchanged greetings, but John felt nice and safe. The bow stopped,

"You are human?"

"Of course I am silly." The man looked irritated but his face changed and he chuckled. He gazed at John thoughtfully, "Shall I play another?"

"Please."

* * *

><p>No More Music<p>

John had never become so sleepy so quickly. He usually relied on sleeping pills or tea, it must be the violin, he thought. Wait, he did not even know the musician's name. He forced his eyes open, the man appeared apprehensive but he smiled slightly.

"What's your name?" John slurred. The man looked away then his eyes shifted back, "Sherlock." He put the violin in the case at his feet. "Go to sleep human." He said.

"I'm John, you saved my life." He mumbled.

"Did I?" asked Sherlock but John was already snoring.

* * *

><p>Dealing with Psychopaths<p>

Sherlock stared at his guest; he never imagined that it would be so easy to manipulate someone to come into his home. He studied the human's face, it looked harmless but there was something about it, it was full of trust and contentment. Lying blissfully unconscious. He cocked his head maybe he should keep it, that way they could become friends. John would never hurt him. He changed his plans, he needed to wake John up, and they needed to leave. Who knew what would happen if he fell into the wrong hands.

* * *

><p>Never Ending Snow<p>

Sherlock panted and ran dragging a gasping John behind him, they were fleeing through the snow.

"Sherlock!" Sherlock kept running wondering if all humans were this slow,

"Sherlock!"

"What?" He growled.

"What's happening, where are we going?" John shouted wasting more breath.

"We must hurry." The sound of bells froze his heart. It was too late.

* * *

><p>Bad Winter<p>

"Where were you going, Sugar?" Moriarty purred, as his sled with bells hanging off the sides, slid next to where John and Sherlock stood.

"I was bringing you this." He replied pushing John to his knees.

"Nice try Sher-lock." He clicked his tongue on the last syllable and stood in the sled. He easily stepped down frowning at how far his foot sank in the snow. He grabbed John by the hair and forced his head back to see his eyes. "I forgive you." He grinned speaking only to Sherlock. John shivered violently.

* * *

><p>Warmth<p>

Moriarty wrapped John in his cloak and pulled John into his sled.

"There, there pet, let's get you warmed up." He crooned as a loving mother would.

"Please don't kill him." Sherlock croaked, watching Moriarty bundle him up. A spell had been cast so that he could not move, only watch, as John was taken from him.

"Kill him?" he shrieked, "Heavens no, not yet anyway." He laughed and John chortled beside him. He too was under a spell but it caused him to act like an idiot. "We're going to have such fun!" The sled took off.

* * *

><p>Last Hope<p>

After a good, well bad, three hours the spell wore off and Sherlock was able to move again. He knew what he had to do; he had to find the lion, Lestrade.

* * *

><p>Hunters<p>

Sherlock and Lestrade found Moriarty's lair and quickly dispatched of his guard, the wolves didn't stand a chance against Lestrade's savage teeth and claws. They met with adversity when they discovered the evil wizard holding a dagger to John's throat.

"Give us the human, James." Lestrade rumbled.

"I'm only going to bleed him a little." He smiled wide. The dagger moved across John's throat.

"No!" Sherlock screamed,

"Whoops my hand slipped." John's body went limp and Moriarty dropped him. He licked the blood-smeared blade and spat. "That didn't taste very good." Grimacing he kicked John in the head.

* * *

><p>Vital Signs<p>

"Stay with us John!" Sherlock shouted pressing his fingers against John's neck. Blood drenched his latex gloves but he refused to let this man die. The emergency vehicle roared as it raced to the nearest hospital. Sherlock kept pressure on the worst visible wound and monitored his heartbeat. He didn't think posing, as a paramedic, would mean he would actually have to save someone. He kept talking to John. He said Christmas was coming and didn't anyone ever tell him to look both ways before crossing the street? John's lips twitched up. Definitely London.

* * *

><p>The end.<p>

AN2: I didn't do a very good job of describing Sherlock as a faun because then he would lose his lovely long legs, so he could be any creature really, who knows what John's mind could come up with. Again thank you for reading and happy Thanksgiving!


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